


Lights

by CharWright5



Series: Sterek Christmas Bingo [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Lights, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Series, Tiny bit of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-25 21:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12541980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharWright5/pseuds/CharWright5
Summary: The Christmas lights hanging over his bed aren't the only thing Derek Hale loves...





	Lights

**Author's Note:**

> This got angstier than I planned and totally off-track but I kinda didn't have a plan beyond "hipster-type lights over the bed". ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. For the "lights" prompt of my Sterek Christmas Bingo card. I'm having too much fun doing these.

Derek originally balked at the idea, thought it was too hipster millennial douchebag for him. Until Stiles pointed out that they were supposedly millennials anyway and that hipsters used white lights instead of colored ones. All Derek could think about was his mom's dislike of them and how tacky she believed colored Christmas lights were.

If she could see the way Stiles had strung them above Derek's bed under the guise of "Christmas decorations", she'd have a cow. And honestly, Derek hadn't been all that sold on it either.

Until that moment.

Stiles was laying in his bed to Derek's right, naked save for the sheet down over his hips and a sheen of sweat. A satisfied smile was on his face, eyes closed, hair free of product and mussed up against the pillow. It was pitch black outside and all the lights were off in the loft except for the Christmas ones on the wall behind the head of the bed, casting multi-colored glows on them.

On Stiles.

Winter months saw the human's tan disappearing, his skin a creamy white that Derek loved running his tongue over, loved tasting. And the paler flesh reflected the lights even better, reds bleeding into blues bleeding into greens. Derek wasn't an artist by any means but the sight of it made him want to be, made him want to paint the circles of colors on his skin, capture the ethereal appearance of it. He'd always thought Stiles was beautiful, especially as he grew older, grew into himself. The sharp planes of his face, the dark curls of his lashes, the soft curve of his lips. But like this, smiling, glowing, the lights reflecting off his skin, he was transcendent.

And Derek was stupid in love.

Not that he'd ever said so to Stiles. Neither of them had. Those three words held a lot of weight for people who'd lost the way they had: lost loved ones, lost sense of innocent, lost sense of self. When they loved, they loved hard. And when they lost it, they hurt twice as hard. 

But Derek still felt it, that swooping in his stomach and the tugging in his chest and the fuzzing in his brain, every single time he looked at Stiles. It was more intense that he'd experienced before, leading him to think of all those times his mom had told him he'd "just know" when he found _The One_ and realizing she was more right than he'd known.

Yet he kept it all in his chest, locked up tight and away from the world, before anyone could ruin it or use it against him. Not that he thought Stiles ever would, but there was always gonna be that small, paranoid part of him that had been figuratively burned while his family had been literally burned, all at the hands of the last person he'd said those three words to. 

He was scared, he knew he was, yet he had no clue how to get over it. And God, did he want to get over it.

Stiles breathed out a laugh, the lights dancing on his shaking chest, and Derek was glad the younger man was a human, that he couldn't hear the way his heart was falling all over itself in his chest.

"You're staring," Stiles commented, eyes still closed, smile shifting into an amused smirk.

Derek fought off his own grin as he lay on his side, arm pillowed under his head as he stared unabashedly at the man in his bed. "Yes, I am."

"Creeper."

"You haven't called me that since you were in high school. Hashtag-throwback-Thursday."

"Oh my god," Stiles groaned, slapping a hand over his place. "Remember your argument over not being a quote 'goddamn idiotic fucking millennial shithole'?"

Derek chuckled. "Vividly. And so do you apparently."

"It was very eloquently put." Dropping his hand, Stiles turned his head to Derek, eyes now open. The lights sparkled in his whiskey irises, making the original color darker as reds and greens and oranges were reflected. 

Beautiful. Ethereal. Transcendent. And Derek suddenly found it hard to breathe.

His left hand reached out and cupped Stiles' cheek, thumb rubbing the apple of it. He locked eyes with the other man, finding a myriad of colors and emotions displayed and hoping what he wanted to express showed in his own.

"I'm gonna say it," he stated, swallowing. "Those words. One day, I'm gonna say them."

Stiles smiled softly, fingers wrapping around Derek's wrist and holding on. "And I'm gonna say 'em right back."

A tiny grin formed on Derek's face and something in his chest settled. Shifting closer, he kissed the other man sweetly, as a multitude of colors danced over their skin.


End file.
